


Sweeter than Victory

by todxrxki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, intramural volleyball au, sue me the world deserves more ushioi fluff, there's also kuroken for .2 seconds because it's me and i can't stop myself, this is super incredibly soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todxrxki/pseuds/todxrxki
Summary: After a fairly bad knee injury, Tooru Oikawa is not happy about getting demoted to intramural volleyball. None of the other teams pose any sort of a threat, after all. That is, until he comes face-to-face with Wakatoshi Ushijima's volleyball team, and finally starts to feel the thrill of volleyball again - along with a completely different type of thrill.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 27
Kudos: 198





	Sweeter than Victory

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in an American university, hence the use of first names.

Tooru Oikawa is a winner. 

It’s a mantra he’s repeated to himself for years upon years: in middle school, when his team won the regional tournament; in high school, when his team lost in the qualifying rounds for the national tournament; in university, when he tried to leap to save a ball before it hit the ground and ended up hearing the sickening crunch of his knee as he landed; and even now, as he takes to the court with his team flanking him. Tooru Oikawa will be a winner, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter if it’s not exactly the level he’d dreamed of.

And so he stands on the court, faces the team on the other side, and gives them his biggest taunting smirk. “May the best team win,” he says.

“Uh… sure,” says the big blonde guy on the other team. He scratches his head and turns to the dude beside him. “Hey, is it legal if I kick the ball over the net?”

“Dude, I hope so,” the other guy says. “That’d be super badass.”

Tooru wants to scream. 

Hajime pats him on the back, which, since it’s Hajime, it’s more of a back pounding than anything. “You knew this wasn’t gonna be the big leagues,” he says gruffly. “These guys are just here for fun.”

“Isn’t winning fun?” Tooru complains. “What’s the point of playing if not to win?!”

“Some people play just because they enjoy playing volleyball, y’know,” Takahiro chimes in.

“That sounds unrealistic,” Issei chimes in. “We should all be here with the express purpose of psychologically destroying the other teams.”

Takahiro cackles. “If you ask Tooru, that should always be our number one goal.”

Tooru groans. “I should’ve never let you two on my team.”

“You had enough trouble finding seven members,” Hajime points out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?!” Tooru demands. 

God, Tooru never would have dreamed that he’d fall this far. He was America’s (college volleyball) sweetheart, one of the top setters at one of the top schools - an angel-faced boy with a beatific smile. But then, after the accident, the doctor had looked him in the eyes, all stony-faced and serious, and said, “No more volleyball.”

Predictably, Tooru had freaked out. His life without volleyball seemed like a bottomless pit, coated in misery and sadness. He’d argued back and forth with the doctor for months, until the doctor finally got tired of him and came up with a compromise. 

“Fine,” he’d said. “You can’t go back to playing for the school team - their practice regimens are too strenuous for that knee of yours. But I’ve been in contact with the physical education department at your university, and they recommended that you start up your own intramural volleyball team.”

At the time, it hadn’t seemed so bad; he’d get to play volleyball with his friends who’d quit volleyball after high school again. He spent his time making the strongest team possible: Hajime because Hajime had to be on his team or it just wasn’t complete; Takahiro and Issei because they’re tall and athletic and also already knew the basic rules of volleyball; Kentarou because they needed another hitter (even if he’s somewhat terrifying); Shinji because he’s an adorable libero; and then two first year babies, Akira and Yuutarou, who’d been recommended by his old underclassman Tobio, because they used to go to school together. He’d even gotten Kentarou to bring in his salty boyfriend as a backup setter. So, in total, he had over seven members -  _ take that, Hajime.  _

But now, faced with boys who are currently discussing whether it’s legal to put a hand through the net, he’s wondering what the point of all his effort had been in the first place. 

The referee blows his whistle for the first serve, and Tooru watches as they send one of their random dudes up to the line. He throws the ball in the air, hits it like a spike, and it crashes directly into the net. The referee blows the whistle again, and Tooru’s team gets their first point.

It doesn’t exactly feel like much of a win.

The game lasts all of five minutes, and they take it in two straight sets. Tooru serves fifteen times straight in one set before he gets bored and intentionally sends it into the net. The other team gets six serves over the net. Three of them, they mess up as soon as one of Tooru’s team members returns it back over. 

Tooru halfheartedly shakes their hands, mumbling “Good game” before Hajime kicks him in the shins and tells him to at least act like a good sport.

“But  _ Haji _ ,” Tooru whines. “It wasn’t a good game!” 

Hajime breathes in, seemingly distressed, and then tells him through gritted teeth, “It’s intramural volleyball, Tooru. You aren’t in the big leagues anymore. You need to lower your expectations.”

Tooru hates that Hajime is right.

So he tries. He’s not all that shocked with their next opponent is more concerned with trying to pull off the flashiest hits possible (half of which go directly into the net), and the next seems to be relying entirely on their big muscles to get the ball to where they want it go, which primarily seems to be far out of bounds. Tooru’s super close to just giving up on intramural volleyball altogether, because  _ what’s the point of playing if no one can even compete _ , but he decides that he’ll give it one more shot.

“Can’t wait to destroy yet another team’s souls,” Tooru sings as he walks into the gymnasium.

“You know,” Hajime says, “your terrible personality really concerns me sometimes.”   
  


Tooru ignores him, because he’s fairly certain that Hajime wouldn’t have stuck with him for so long if he really found Tooru’s personality that despicable. He sets his bag down on the bench, starts up his stretching routine, and then steals a glance at the other team’s bench to try to size them up. 

There’s some tall guy with red hair that’s stuck up like a troll doll with a weird smile on his face. Come to think of it, Tooru thinks as he keeps staring, most of them have weird hair - bowl cuts, some of them. But then his eyes fall on the guy at the center of their huddle. He’s clearly the leader of their huddle, judging by the way all eyes are on him, and - 

And he doesn’t have weird hair. And he’s  _ hot.  _ Like, incredibly so.

Tooru wonders wryly if he’d still be willing to take Tooru on a date if Tooru kicks his ass in this game too. 

He also wonders what style this dude will be. Judging by his muscular frame, Tooru almost thinks a muscle boy that’s constantly hitting out-of-bounds. But there’s something serious in his gaze that no other opponent has had before. 

Suddenly, Tooru feels intensely curious.

Hajime’s looking at him warily, Tooru’s aware. He snaps back to attention, to the team that’s started to surround him, and grins. “Let’s do our best today!” he says. “And pummel them into a pulp!” 

“I worry about you sometimes,” Shigeru says. 

Tooru rolls his eyes as he leads the team out to the court, stepping forwards to determine who gets the first serve. Just as he’d thought, the other team’s captain is the hot, seemingly serious guy who regards Tooru with an intense gaze as he steps up. 

“Hello,” the guy says flatly, and then, “I would like you to know that we intend to win today.”

_ You what?!? _

Tooru can practically feel his jaw drop as he stares back at the other man. What kind of nerve does this guy have? To come up and say that! He doesn’t even try to follow the guise of sportsmanship! God, he hates this guy already. Balling his hands into fists to keep his calm composure, he retorts, “Well, good luck with that~ Because I definitely don’t intend to lose.”

“Good,” the other man says. “It will make it more satisfying when we beat you.”

_ What. The. Fuck. _

Tooru breathes in deeply, then out. He gets the feeling the rest of his team would not be extremely pleased if he were to deck this other captain in the face and get the entire team disqualified for the rest of the season. So he plasters on his best faux-sunny smile and says, “If you say so.”

Tooru’s just salty enough that, when he wins the coin toss, he chooses to serve first and then puts himself in serving position. He’s learned that the referees of intramural volleyball aren’t particular about the rules the way they are in varsity, so he decides that this is the perfect opportunity to spit in the face of this guy that’s such a conceited asshole, with one of his infamous serves. And he  _ won’t  _ be holding back.

As soon as Tooru makes contact, he knows that it’s a good one - nearly perfect, in fact. He smiles in satisfaction, watching as it sails over the net, and knows with confidence that they won’t be able to return it. But then -

_ They do. _

One of the team members sinks down into perfect receive position, the ball flying in a perfect arc to the blonde guy with the odd haircut, who sends it sailing into the air in a fairly decent set. Tooru’s yelling “Go! Block!” to his team’s blockers, since they’re not exactly used to having to block, but it’s too late. The team’s captain is already slamming the ball down to the other side of the court - right in their faces. 

_ What the hell? _

Tooru blinks in surprise as he stares at the ball rolling away from them, at the tiny quirk of the other man’s lips, and then says tightly, “It looks like we’ve finally got some competition.” 

As much as he hates to lose, he kind of loves the idea of actually having someone to compete against more. 

They have to amp up their play style after that. Tooru starts strategizing, trying to come up with the perfect player positioning in order to defend against the other team’s captain. He begins to strategically send balls to hitters instead of just halfheartedly setting to whoever’s available. He finds that the guy with the red hair is particularly talented in guess blocking, which is a monster he hasn’t played against in forever. He’s barking orders at his teammates, running all over the court (probably more than is healthy with his bad knee), finally, finally, actually trying to set the ball to the best of his ability. He’s playing hard and intelligently and the rush of adrenaline that flows through him is truly incomparable. Still, despite his best efforts, they fall to the other team, 25-22 in the first set, 26-24 in the second.

Tooru had almost forgotten how it feels to lose. He fucking hates it.

He steps up to the net, trying to keep the scowl off of his lips as he thrusts out his hand towards the other captain. “Good game,” he says gruffly.

“Good game,” the other man repeats. “What is your name?”

Tooru quirks an eyebrow. It’s not a question that he’d expected this clearly very serious guy to ask him, and he takes a second to pause before he says, “Tooru Oikawa. What’s it to you?”

“I was just wondering,” he says, his tone as flat as ever. “You are a very talented setter, you know.”

“I know,” Tooru says, a glint in his eye. He’s nothing if not a sucker for flattery. “What’s yours, then? It’s only fair.”

“Wakatoshi Ushijima,” he says firmly. “I wish you had been on our team, Tooru. We would have had a 100% chance at winning the intramural tournament.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tooru frowns. “What’s your chance of winning right now, then?”

“95%.” Wakatoshi delivers it in such an emotionless tone, as though it’s plain fact. It pisses Tooru off. They hadn’t lost by much, after all - there’s nothing saying that they won’t be able to beat them next time. This Wakatoshi asshole is clearly underestimating him.

“Hm,” Tooru hums, still trying to keep himself calm and composed, despite the fact that every single bone in his body is yearning to reach out and throttle Wakatoshi Ushijima. “Well, there’s one thing you forgot to take into account. Next time we play against your team, I will personally make sure that we destroy you.”

Tooru might be imagining things, but he thinks he sees a tiny quirk of Wakatoshi’s lips. “All right, then,” Wakatoshi says. “I look forward to seeing it. Still, my percentage remains unchanged.”

Tooru’s about to fire back with a scathing remark - seriously, fucking Wakatoshi, who the fuck does he think he is? - when someone beside them clears their throat. Both of their heads whip around to see the referee clearing his throat. “Um, sorry to interrupt,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “but the next game starts in like, two minutes, so uh, if you wouldn’t mind taking this elsewhere…”

“It’s no problem,” Tooru says, turning around dramatically. “I was just leaving, anyways.”

“Until next time,” Wakatoshi calls, and it sounds like a challenge.

Tooru can’t wait to destroy him. 

.

“I hate him,” Tooru says that night at their late-night dinner in between shoveling bites of hamburger into his face. “I seriously hate him. Who does he think he is? Acting like he’s the king of the world. I can’t wait to see his stupid stoic face fall when we rip the championship out from under their feet.” 

“Tooru,” Hajime says carefully. “You realize this is fucking intramural volleyball, right?”

“Does it  _ matter _ ?” Tooru whines dramatically. “He’s an asshole! And we can’t lose the intramural volleyball tournament, Haji! That’s just embarrassing!” 

“I mean, we’ve already fucked up our perfect record,” Takahiro says with a grin.

“We might as well go all the way,” Issei agrees sagely.

“I say we forfeit the tournament,” Hajime says. “Since our record has already been tarnished, as Makki said.” 

“You’re all so annoying,” Tooru gripes, throwing a fry at the other side of the table. Takahiro dodges out of the way, his eyes sparkling. “I’m not going to quit the tournament. I just have to destroy Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

“Is that his name?” Issei mouths.

“How do you even know his name?” Takahiro asks.

The corner of Hajime’s mouth turns up. “Oh, you didn’t see Tooru having a really fucking intense conversation with that big guy through the net? ‘ _ I will personally destroy you _ -’”

“It wasn’t like that,” Tooru whines, but it’s too late - Takahiro and Issei are already snorting while Hajime smiles in clear self-satisfaction. He’s glad that he can provide their entertainment for the evening - as the butt of their stupid joke, but whatever.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t find him attractive,” Hajime says, matter-of-factly. “I know all of your expressions, Tooru. And that one was screaming bedroom eyes.” 

“It was  _ not _ ,” Tooru protests, but it gets lost among Issei and Takahiro’s cackles. “But yes, I mean, I have eyes! He’s attractive! But that doesn’t make him any less of a cocky asshole, so I’m still going to kick his ass in volleyball.”

“How dramatic,” Issei says dryly. “Wipe the floor with his ass in volleyball, then take him out to eat afterwards.”

“I hate him,” Tooru says. “I’m not going on a date with him.”

“No one believes that, Idiotkawa,” Hajime tells him.

Tooru really has to get better friends.

.

For research purposes only, Tooru starts to ask around about the world’s most conceited, annoying person. He has to know about him if he wants to beat him, he tells himself, so it seems justified. 

Tetsurou Kuroo blinks at him twice, then his mouth stretches out into its usual lazy smirk. “Ohoho? I might know a Wakatoshi Ushijima, but what’s it to you?”

“He’s playing intramural,” Tooru says. “And he’s really good, but also the most stuck-up person I have ever experienced in my whole entire life. Therefore, I am bound by obligation to destroy him, you know?”

Tetsurou’s boyfriend, Kenma, glances up from where his face had been buried into his gaming console. “This sounds like some UST,” he says flatly. 

Tetsurou cackles, his arm around Kenma’s shoulders tightening the slightest bit. Oikawa tries not to let his jealousy show through his expression. “It really does, doesn’t it?”

Tooru frowns at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

“In layperson terms,” Kenma says, “you have a thing for this Wakatoshi guy. Although,” Kenma pauses, his gaze narrowing, “I don’t blame you. He’s not bad-looking.”

“I do noooot,” Tooru protests, and then, “Wait. You know him?”  


“Not bad-looking?” Tetsurou yelps, sounding wounded.

“I’m taken, Kuro, not blind,” Kenma says, though he presses a reassuring kiss to Tetsurou’s cheek before continuing. “He’s in my English class, yes.”

“What do you know about him?!” Tooru demands.

Kenma looks slightly bemused. “He grew up on a farm. He keeps talking about it whenever we have discussion questions.” 

Tetsurou hoots at that. “Holy shit, Tooru’s got a crush on a fucking farm boy!” Kenma glares at him, and Tooru follows suit.

“I don’t see how that helps me kick his ass at volleyball,” Tooru gripes.

“Well, he’s not good enough to get an offer for the school team,” Tetsurou points out. “So I don’t see how he’s all that good.” 

Tooru suddenly wants to kick Tetsurou’s ass as well, but he holds himself back and paints a sunny smile onto his face. Brightly, he says, “Hm, but I’m pretty sure he could get through one of your blocks, no problem~” 

Tetsurou’s eyes narrow. “I highly doubt that,” he says, crossing his arms and holding his head higher. “I’ve been named one of the nation’s top ten blockers for the past two years -”

“You just barely broke the top ten,” Kenma comments mildly.

“And I would never let any random kid blast through one of my blocks,” he says. 

“I’d invite you to join the intramural league, but you’re not allowed,” Tooru says brightly. “Anyways, that’s what I don’t understand either. Someone of his caliber shouldn’t be playing in the intramural leagues, much like myself. However, I have an excuse - I was tragically banned from the varsity leagues. What’s his excuse?”

“Google exists,” Kenma points out.

Tooru gasps. “Kenken, you’re a genius!”

“Don’t call me that ever again.”

“He is a genius, isn’t he,” Tetsurou says softly, running his hand through Kenma’s hair with a small smile on his face.

God, Tooru really has to get away from this lovefest before he gags himself to death. “Enjoy your date,” he gripes as he turns to walk away dramatically. At least his volleyball team is about as depressingly single as he is.

Though, Kenma certainly had a point…

He makes it back to his dorm room, takes out his laptop, and types in “Wakatoshi Ushijima volleyball.” Unfortunately, though, nothing comes up. No articles, no videos of his killer spikes, nothing whatsoever. There are some videos of a Japanese pro player with the same last name, but that’s about it.

“Weird,” he whispers, and then types in “Wakatoshi Ushijima,” leaving off the volleyball part. This time, there are a few results - but most of them are advertisements for a farm. It seemed Kenma had been correct on that front as well. Wakatoshi Ushijima is just a simple farm boy.

…a farm boy who’d somehow become his biggest rival.

.

Their next game is against another team who genuinely don’t seem to know how to receive the ball and keep sending it behind them or directly into the net. Tooru tries his best to keep his groans silent and his tired glances directed at his team members only. Then, they’re up against the clueless guys again, and then finally, finally, they get to play Wakatoshi’s team again.

Tooru’s suddenly glad it’s a small league.

“Hello, Tooru,” Wakatoshi says, and honestly Tooru’s a little surprised that Wakatoshi had bothered learning Tooru’s name. “I hope you are a little more amenable to the idea of losing this time.” 

Tooru takes his hand and gives it a tight squeeze, just tight enough to be painful. “I meant it when I said I would destroy you, Waka-waka.” 

“Waka-waka?” Wakatoshi repeats, his eyes almost comically wide.

“Yes,” Tooru says brightly. “I give nicknames. It’s one of my many charming traits.”

“That’s a terrible nickname,” Wakatoshi says, as though it’s a statement of fact.

“Tell you what,” Tooru says. “If you win this game, I’ll change your nickname~ If not, then Waka-waka it is.”

“I’m not going to lose,” Wakatoshi says. Tooru grits his teeth. He’s awfully overconfident for a guy whose team had nearly lost to Tooru’s two games in a row. 

“You’ll be eating your words soon enough,” Tooru informs him.

“It will be nice to have a challenge,” Wakatoshi says. “Still, I do not think it will be enough.”

Tooru scowls. He has to take this guy down. He  _ has  _ to. He moves back into position, his hands balled into fists, and claps his hands. “We’re going to take them down,” he says. “I better not see any of you slacking off. Give this your 100%. No, your  _ 1000%.  _ Give me things you didn’t even know you had in you.”

“Why would I give that much to intramural volleyball,” Akira mumbles, and Tooru glares at him.

“This isn’t just an intramural game,” Tooru says dramatically. “This is a battle with dignity on the line. My dignity, to be more specific.”

“Can you really lose what you never had in the first place?” Hajime asks.

“Excuse me,” Tooru says.

He starts the serve once again and observes the other side of the court. Maybe the kid with the weird black hair would be a good place to attempt to target? He’d seemed a little overenthusiastic, a little young, and sure enough, when he sends it over, the kid receives it - but the receive is a little off, which makes the set a little off, and that means that Wakatoshi’s hit is a little delayed and a little less strong, so Takahiro can block it. He smiles with satisfaction as it drops back to the other side of the court and is given the ball back for his next serve.

“He really is a top-notch strategist,” he hears Wakatoshi whisper. Tooru can’t help the way his cheeks heat up a little at that.

The first set goes into deuces, but in the end, Tooru’s team takes it. He can’t help but feel somewhat victorious as they switch sides. Wakatoshi looks at him with something like respect in his eyes, and he can’t help it - he fucking  _ loves  _ it. Loves to be looked at like he’s something special, kind of loves that it’s Wakatoshi Ushijima, who could probably take Takahiro’s hands off with one of his better spikes, that looks at him like that. But unfortunately, it doesn’t last long.

Maybe it’s that Tooru’s team got too cocky, or that Wakatoshi’s team is motivated by the fact that they lost the first set, but they take the second set fairly quickly - 22-25 - and then the third set as well, 17-15. Tooru thinks it’s also a little bit that he got tired, since he’s not quite used to playing for this long anymore, especially since he’d been kicked off of the varsity team. He pants with his hands on his knees, trying to get his breath back so that he can talk to Wakatoshi - and say what, exactly? That he’d done his best and yet it hadn’t been enough? That he’d embarrassed himself once again? 

“You played well,” comes a voice, and of course it’s Wakatoshi. Of fucking course. He couldn’t even let Tooru have a second of dignity, could he? 

Tooru laughs hollowly. “Don’t condescend to me.”

“That was not my intention,” Wakatoshi says, and it almost sounds sincere. “I was being serious. However, you still owe me a new nickname, and…” Wakatoshi scratches at the back of his neck, almost looking embarrassed. “I was hoping that we might discuss the matter further over dinner.”

“Dinner?” Tooru says, his eyes flashing in amusement. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, that might almost sound like an invitation for a date.”

“Of course it would only be a business dinner,” Wakatoshi says, but the fact that the tips of his ears have turned pink indicates that Tooru’s guess had been spot on. 

Tooru thinks for a second. He wants to say no, mostly because Wakatoshi has been such an asshole, and clearly thinks far too highly of himself, so a rejection might be good for his ego. On the other hand, Wakatoshi Ushijima is hot, and Tooru is only human. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’ll go on your little business dinner.”

“Great,” he says. “Where would you like to go?”

“We can just go to the campus dining hall,” Tooru says. “Let me just tell my team where I’m going and I’ll meet you outside?”

“Yes,” Wakatoshi says with a nod. “Yes, that sounds good. I will see you outside momentarily.”

Tooru resists the urge to snort - seriously, what kind of dork says shit like momentarily? - and walks over to his team. He fixes them with a serious stare. “I swear to god, you’d better not say anything when I say what I’m about to say.” 

“We make no promises,” Takahiro and Issei say, almost completely in sync. It’s pretty creepy.

“You’re going to dinner with Mr. Serious Captain, aren’t you,” Hajime says with a sigh. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. We all knew you didn't actually 'hate him.' Just don’t get on his nerves too bad, Shittykawa. And don’t be yourself.” 

Tooru sticks out his tongue. “I have it on good authority that my personality is incredibly charming, thank you very much.”

“It’s not,” the rest of his team says in unison. 

“Well fine!” Tooru protests. “You all suck and are super unsupportive! I’m going to dinner now!” 

“Have fun!” Issei calls.

“But not too much fun,” Takahiro adds.

“Your team seems lively,” Wakatoshi says when Tooru finds him outside. 

“Too lively, I think,” Tooru answers. “What, is your team not like that?”

Wakatoshi takes a second to think. “Some of them are,” he says eventually. “Satori, for certain.” 

“Which one is Satori?” Tooru asks. 

“The one with the bright red hair,” Wakatoshi informs him, and ah, yes, Tooru could certainly see that, what with his expressions and the wild way he behaved in between points. “I suppose you could say he is my closest friend.”

“Ah,” Tooru says. “My closest friend is Iwa-chan! The one with the spiky hair and angry face. But he only pretends to be angry, y’know! On the inside, he loves me~ I’m just that loveable!” 

“You think highly of yourself,” Wakatoshi says, but it doesn’t sound all that much like an insult - more like an observation.

“I have good reason to,” Tooru says. “You also think highly of yourself.”

Wakatoshi shrugs. “I am honest about my own strengths,” he says, “but also of my own shortcomings. For example, I am not that great at social occasions such as this one.”

“Oh,” Tooru says, “well, good thing I’m an expert at social things, then!” 

“I could tell,” Wakatoshi says. His voice is a little bit soft, almost endearing.

They make it to the dining hall. Wakatoshi gets a meal that Tooru thinks a farm boy might actually eat: stocked with veggie sides and a little bit of steak and bread. Tooru says, “So you really did grow up on a farm,” because apparently he has absolutely zero filter.

“Yes, I did,” Wakatoshi says, setting down his fork. “But I don’t believe that I’ve mentioned it to you in the two times that we have met.”

_ Fuck.  _ Tooru blanches, plasters a smile on his face. “I… may have asked around about you,” he says. 

“Oh,” Wakatoshi says. He pauses, as if taking the time to think about it, and then says, “Well, if it’s any consolation, I did the same for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tooru says, putting his chin in his hand. “And what did they say, pray tell?”

“They said that you are charming. A little bit manipulative at times. Incredibly good-looking. A talented setter, originally a part of the university varsity team, but then after a tragic injury, sentenced to play only intramural for the rest of your career.”

“Well, I’d guess that about sums me up,” Tooru hums. 

“I knew you were talented,” Wakatoshi says. “If I had found you earlier, I certainly would have extended an invitation to join my team. Together, we would have been unstoppable.”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “As true as I’m sure that is, I’m perfectly happy where I am now, on a team with my friends. So I probably would’ve flat-out rejected you anyways~ Sorry.”

“A team with your friends,” Wakatoshi repeats. “But is that better than winning?”

Tooru nearly snorts. “As much as I love to win, I value my friends more.”

“That’s interesting,” Wakatoshi says, as though he’s never considereed this concept before. Honestly, he probably never has. 

“Besides, I’ll still kick your team’s ass with my team of friends. But what about you? You’re clearly really good at this, but you were never on the varsity team - I would’ve known. Did you turn down their offer or something? Decide to quit playing seriously after high school?”

Wakatoshi looks up at him, his eyes dark. “I didn’t play in high school,” he says. 

“Y-you just started in college?” Tooru stutters. It seems nearly impossible, for someone to be as good as Wakatoshi is and have just started a couple of years ago. “Holy shit, I -”

“No,” Wakatoshi interrupts. “I’ve played since I was a child, with friends and with random people on the courts nearby and mostly, by myself. Since I grew up in a rural area, my schools did not have many sports teams, and certainly not men’s volleyball teams. Therefore, I remained unknown and was not recruited by any university level teams.”

“But you’re really good,” Tooru argues. “If you’d have put yourself out there, then I’m sure some private school would’ve given you a scholarship, and you could’ve -”

Wakatoshi shakes his head. “Then my family would have had no one to assist on their farm,” he says. “I could not abandon them like that. So, much like you would have given up a winning team for your friends, I gave up my shot at playing professionally for my parents. And I am sure I could go try out for the team now, but that would take up a lot of my time. Most weekends I go home to assist my parents on the farm. So, for now, I have relegated myself to only playing intramural. Though, I have to admit,” he says, dropping his voice, “it has been fairly boring until your team came around.”

Tooru can’t help but grin at that. “The other teams just can’t compare, can they? Especially when they’re directing their serves at the ceiling~” 

“And their spikes directly into the net,” Wakatoshi says, nodding. “It is fantastic to finally find someone that shares the same passion for the game that I do. It certainly makes the game more interesting. Though I hope you won’t take it personally that we keep defeating you.” 

God, he hates that he’s starting to find Wakatoshi and his blatant honesty the slightest bit charming. “Of course not, Ushiwaka! Because next time we’re going to  _ destroy  _ you.” 

“Ushiwaka?”

“Yes, that’s your new nickname,” Tooru informs him. “I suppose I could’ve gone with Wakaushi, but it certainly doesn’t have the same ring~”

”That is still an awful nickname, Tooru.” 

“What? I never promised that you would like your new nickname, Ushiwaka~”

All in all, it’s a pretty good dinner, honestly. And if he slips Wakatoshi his number at the end of the night, no one has to know. 

.

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Hello, Tooru. I assume you giving me your number means that it is acceptable for me to text you. 

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Yes, Ushiwaka, that’s generally what giving someone your number means~ (^_−)☆

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Good. I was hoping that you would not mind accompanying me this weekend. I have a day off from the farm, somewhere off campus. Perhaps a park, since my weather app has informed me that the weather will be nice. 

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Hm, I think I could live with that~

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Great. I will see you at 2 PM this Saturday.

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

I look forward to it (^人<)〜☆ Will you carry me if I get too tired?

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

We will not be walking for long, so I do not believe that you would get that tired.    
  


**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

What if my knee started hurting and I needed to be carried by a big, strong man? (^ω~)

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

I suppose I could locate a park ranger to assist you.

.

“Have you ever flirted with a brick wall?”

Hajime sets down his textbook and raises an eyebrow at Tooru. “Honestly, half of the things you say sound like the ramblings of a crazy person, but this shit is even crazier than usual. What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m trying to flirt with Wakatoshi,” Tooru whines, “but he never picks up on my signals! He’s way too literal!”

“At least you’re finally admitting that that twisted shit you’ve been trying to pull is flirting,” Hajime says.

“We have a date in like, two hours!” Tooru says. “What am I supposed to do?!”

“Honestly,” Hajime advises, “I’d say just go for it and kiss him. That’s the only way to get a ‘brick wall’ to pick up on your signals, I’m pretty sure.”

“Hmmm. Wow, Haji, you have a point! Who knew you were so smart?” 

“I’m going to throw a shoe at your head if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Wakatoshi meets Tooru outside of his door, which Tooru thinks is almost chivalrous. They engage in some small talk about classes and stuff until they make it to the park. It’s beautiful fall weather; the leaves are falling off the trees, and Tooru catches some in his arms and then throws them onto Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi blinks, takes one of the leaves off of his arm, and stares at it. Tooru’s starting to think he might actually be an alien -  _ and how fucking cool would that be?  _ \- when he takes the leaf and puts it gently on top of Tooru’s head. 

“It looks better on you,” he says softly.

Tooru’s eyes widen - was that  _ flirting,  _ holy shit - but Wakatoshi just keeps walking as though he’d said nothing, so Tooru has to run to catch up with him, knocking the leaf off. The wind blows gently through them as Tooru matches his walking speed, purposely brushing their hands together. “You look nice,” Tooru says finally, because he’s not sure what else he can say.

“So do you,” Wakatoshi says. “If this were the competition, you would certainly be winning.”

Tooru feels his heart skip a beat at that. Wakatoshi slows the pace a bit, until he’s stopping, turning to look at Tooru.

“I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he says quietly, though Tooru thinks he kind of disagrees.

“You don’t have to be,” Tooru says with a small smile, “because I am, and you definitely can’t beat me in everything.”

Wakatoshi chuckles, low and deep. Tooru really likes the sound of it. “Okay,” Wakatoshi says. “I think that sounds agreeable. But, just so I am being clear here, Tooru: I am very much enamored with you.”

It's the sweetest and yet the most awkward confession he's ever heard. Tooru can't bring himself to form a response, so instead, Tooru leans in to kiss him, slow and gentle, and the autumn wind blows around them. It’s a little chilly, but yet Tooru has never felt so warm, especially as Wakatoshi’s arms stretch out to wrap around him and pull him close. He feels protected, safe. He hears Wakatoshi’s heartbeat, strong and loud, and hopes that his echoes the same beat. 

“I’ll still destroy you,” Tooru says against Wakatoshi’s lips.

Wakatoshi chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair back behind Tooru’s ear. “You already are,” he says.

.

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

As you requested, I am texting you to let you know that you are incredibly handsome and also, good morning.

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

I could really get used to waking up to compliments in the morning~~

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

I will compliment you every morning, if that is what you wish. You are a brilliant setter. I am impressed by you every time we play.

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Now you’re just flattering me!

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Not that I mind~

**Text from: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Would you like to get breakfast with me? 

**Text to: Ushiwaka** **✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:***

Hm, I think I’d be okay with that~

Hajime throws a pillow and hits him in the side of the face.

“Ouch!” Tooru says, glaring at him. “What was that for?”

“You were smiling at your phone,” Hajime grunts. “It was disgusting.”

“Some kind of supportive friend you are!” Tooru complains. “We’ll see if I ever help you get a girlfriend!” 

“You literally have never helped me get a girlfriend before, Annoyingkawa,” Hajime says. “In fact, every time you’re in the vicinity, all the girls flock to you. So you’re more of a deterrent than anything.”

“Is it my fault that I’m so handsome and girls just can’t stay away -  _ would you stop throwing pillows at me? _ ” 

“When you stop being annoying, maybe.”

“Next time I’ll tell them I have a boyfriend,” Tooru says, resting his phone beside him on his bed, his cheeks turning a little bit pink.

“You got the brick wall to pick up on your signals, huh,” Hajime says. “Makes sense. I’ve always said you’d charm a brick wall if no one was there to stop you.”

“You know,” Tooru says thoughtfully, “his muscles are kind of like bricks.”

“Aaaand, that’s enough. That’s as far as my duty as your best friend goes. No more. Spare my ears, please.”

Tooru grins and gets himself dressed. After all, he’s got a boyfriend waiting for him that he can’t afford to keep waiting any longer. 

.

About a month later, they play Wakatoshi’s team in the finals of the intramural tournament. 

He extends a hand to Wakatoshi under the net. “Stop smiling at me,” he hisses. “We’re taking this seriously, remember?”

“Of course we are,” Wakatoshi agrees, but the stupid, dopey smile doesn’t leave his face.

“Ushiwaka - “

“You just look really attractive right now,” Wakatoshi says, “and it makes me want to kiss you. Therefore, I am smiling, because that’s what I’m thinking about.”

“Would you stop it?!” Tooru hisses. “I’m here to destroy you, okay? You’re my rival right now.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” he says, finally taking Tooru’s hand. “I intend to make you eat the ground I walk on in this championship game.” 

“I’ll make you lick your own dirty shoes,” Tooru says, squeezing Wakatoshi’s surprisingly soft, but gigantic hand, and thinking of how perfectly it fits in his own.

The referee coughs beside them. “I, uh, hope you realize you’re just playing for some Rec Center t-shirts,” he says. 

Tooru and Wakatoshi head to different sides of the court. This time, Wakatoshi had won the coin toss, so his team has the first serve. He watches as the ball sails over the net, to his side of the court,and as it heads in a perfect arc in his direction. He can do this. He is  _ going  _ to do this.

Once again, it’s a hard fight. They win the first set narrowly, lose the second set narrowly, and then head into the third. Tooru’s giving this everything he has in him - barking orders at his team members, trying to get them to keep going after the ball, to send the balls to him, to get ready to block, to prepare themselves to hit - but then, finally, Hajime gets a hit past Satori, and the ball falls on Wakatoshi’s side of the court. The referee blows the whistle, and - 

And that’s it. “Well, there ya have it,” Satori says in his weird way, but it doesn’t even matter, because Tooru has won.

Tooru has  _ won. _

He grins and pulls his team members into a big group hug. Takahiro ruffles his hair and says, “How’s it feel to have destroyed your own boyfriend?” in his usual taunting manner.

“It feels great,” Tooru says. “No mercy.”

“Scary boyfriend,” Issei says.

“Seriously,” Takahiro agrees. “I’d say that Wakatoshi went easy on him, but judging by how much my arms still sting from his spikes, I really don’t think so.”

It’s reassuring, almost, to hear that Wakatoshi had given his best and yet Tooru was still able to beat him. He leads the team in a loud cheer -  _ “You’d think they’d won the Olympics instead of the stupid Intramural Tournament,”  _ he hears the ref mutter - and then extricates himself from the huddle to walk over to Wakatoshi.

“Congratulations,” Wakatoshi says warmly.

Tooru searches, but there isn’t a hint of sadness or disappointment in his features. He raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t upset?” he asks. “I thought you loved winning.”

“I do,” Wakatoshi replies. He pauses, and then says, “Do you remember when you told me there were things that were more important to you than winning?”

“Yes,” Tooru replies curiously.

“Well,” Wakatoshi says, staring at the ground, his cheeks flaming, “This - seeing you this happy - I believe that it is more important to me than winning.”

Tooru stares at him for a moment, his mouth gaping. It’s kind of the most romantic thing he’s ever heard; who knew that he could be the thing that could surpass Wakatoshi Ushijima’s insurmountable desire to win? He rushes at Wakatoshi, surprising him for a moment before Wakatoshi smiles and his arms come to wrap around Tooru, holding him close.

(And if he takes a moment to kiss his boyfriend in the middle of the court, before they get shooed off by the very confused-looking referees - well, who can blame him?)

Tooru Oikawa is a winner, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
I realized recently that despite Ushioi being my second favorite ship in Haikyuu, I'd literally never written it as a standalone fic before, and I had to fix that! I also realized that this fandom is desperately lacking in super-soft Ushioi, so here you go. Also, I apologize if my characterizations of Seijoh characters are off: this is my first time writing a lot of them!  
If you enjoyed, please leave a comment! It'll encourage me to write more Ushioi in the future :)


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